


The Music Is Sweet, the Words Are True

by lauawill



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4127800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauawill/pseuds/lauawill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Voyager AU set in the present, written from this brilliant prompt: “You’re sleeping on my best friend’s couch while your house is being renovated, and you have weird habits like singing opera in the shower and eating all my Cheerios.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maple_Fay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maple_Fay/gifts).



> I've never written an alternate universe story. We'll see how this goes. I am making it up on the fly as I have time, so it should be interesting!

Part 1  
The singing took him by surprise.

In all the years he'd known her, he couldn't ever recall hearing Lana sing. She might have howled along at a Dave Matthews Band concert once or twice while they were still in grad school, but that was about it. And if he'd heard her sing then, he must have been too stoned out of his mind to notice how flat-out _bad_ she was at it, because the sounds emanating from the upstairs bathroom window could not properly be called "singing," not by any stretch of the imagination.

Chuck paused on the sidewalk outside Lana's house and listened. The caterwauling rose in pitch and intensity, and he winced. "Opera?" he muttered. "Is she standing in the shower and singing _opera_? I didn't know she had it in her." He shook his head, drops of sweat flying from his face and close-cropped hair, and climbed the porch steps.

His legs felt rubbery beneath him, fatigued from the long run. Eight miles was probably overdoing it, but this, the first Saturday after school was out for the summer, had beckoned him out of bed for a long run by the lake. His standing date to walk his old friend's dog at the end of his usual Saturday morning run was just an added bonus on this perfect, gorgeous June day.

On the porch, Chuck paused. Standing date or not, he didn't want to just barge into the house and frighten Mira, Lana's four-year-old daughter, who was probably playing in the living room while her mother showered. He tapped on the front door and peeked through the open window next to it. "Hey, Mira!" he called. "It's Uncle Chuck. Can I come in?"

He cocked his ear for the sound of small feet, and sure enough, a moment later Mira pushed aside the living room curtains and pressed her little face up against the screen. "Hey, Uncle!" she beamed, and darted to the door, leaving a sticky smear of…something…behind on the screen.

Mira unlatched the screen door and then the front door from the inside. Chuck pulled it open and scooped the little girl up in his arms. "Hey, Sweet Pea! How's my girl?"

Mira giggled and tried to push away from him. "You stink, Uncle!"

"I bet I do!" He pressed his sweaty face to hers. "I'm all wet, too!"

"Ew, gross!" Mira scrabbled down and headed for the kitchen. "Want some juice? Mama says I should always offer 'freshments to people who come over."

Chuck smiled. "Juice would be fine. Want some help?"

"No, I can do it!"

"Okay, if you're sure." Chuck toed off his running shoes inside the door and bent to stretch his hamstrings. "Where's Roofus?"

"Upstairs," Mira called from the kitchen. Her voice was muffled, as if she were half-buried in the refrigerator -- which probably wasn't far from the truth. Mira was small for her age, just like her mother, but whip-smart and resourceful and determined enough to do most things for herself.

Chuck stepped over to the bottom of the staircase and glanced up. Roofus, Lana's energetic Irish Setter, was perched in front of the closed bathroom door at the top of the stairs, tail thumping against the hardwood floor. When the "singing" started up from the shower again, Roofus tilted his head back and let out a howl that might have been called harmonic, if only the singing itself had been in any way melodic.

With a soft laugh, Chuck ambled into the kitchen, where Mira was seated at the breakfast bar with two glasses of orange juice and only a small spill. "I don't think Roofus likes your Mom's singing."

Mira took a long drink and wiped her face on the back of her hand. "That's not Mom," she said. "Mom's out in the garden."

Chuck paused with his glass halfway to his lips. "Then who's in the shower?"

"That's Aunt Katie. She's here visiting." Mira sipped her juice. "She's nice. I like her. Roofus _loooooves_ her." The girl rolled her eyes. "Silly dog."

Another ear-splitting aria drifted down from the upstairs bathroom, and after it, another long howl. "I didn't know Lana had company," he said, and strolled back into the living room to peer up the stairs.

Several things happened all at once, then, and years later, Chuck would be hard-pressed to explain the sudden chaos. The dog, spying Chuck at the bottom of the stairs, jumped up and turned around to greet him with a series of happy barks. At the sound of the barking, the bathroom door flew open and a petite redheaded woman wearing an even more petite blue towel charged out. "Mira!" she called. "Are you all right?"

She started toward the stairs, caught sight of Chuck standing at the bottom in his running shorts and bare feet...and screamed.

Caught between two urges -- one, to explain his sudden presence to the woman in the towel, and two, to fling himself at her tiny, gorgeous feet -- Chuck froze.

Mira came running, juice in hand. "It's okay, Aunt Katie!" she cried. "It's just Uncle Chuck!"

Not expecting to find Chuck immobilized by shock, Mira slammed into the backs of his knees, knocking him forward onto the staircase. The juice glass went flying.

Roofus barked again at the scene unfolding in front of him. He darted toward Chuck, then back toward the bathroom, and the woman in the towel, self-consciously adjusting her too-small garment, tripped over the confused dog and fell in a heap at the top of the stairs.

Chuck and Katie regarded each other for a long, charged moment, her flashing blue eyes colliding with his warm brown ones across the span of a hardwood staircase.

As one, they both took a breath and bellowed. "LANA!"

The back door slammed open and Lana sailed through the kitchen and into the living room, brown curls flying. "What the --" She stopped and stared. "Oh."

Mira disentangled herself from Chuck's long legs and stood up. "We forgot to tell Aunt Katie about Uncle Chuck," she said.

"We sure did, kiddo." Lana laughed. Chuck and Katie both turned to stare at her. "Well, this is awkward. Um, Katie, this is my friend Chuck, who teaches English at the high school. He takes my dog to the dog park sometimes on Saturdays."

Katie, still face-down at the top of the staircase, gave a curt nod. "Nice to meet you," she said. Her whiskey voice sent a tingle down Chuck's spine.

"And Chuck, this is my friend Katie from college. She's going to be working at Delta Labs starting in a couple weeks, but she's staying here while her new townhouse is being repainted."

Chuck gazed back at the redheaded, blue-eyed -- and freckled, he noticed with a jolt -- woman sprawled in front of him. "Nice to meet you," he murmured, and then, perhaps because he'd momentarily lost his mind in the face of all that glowing, freckled skin, he smiled. "You have a lovely singing voice."

Roofus, unconcerned by the chaos around him and wearing a happy doggy grin, hopped down the stairs and began to lap up the spilled juice.

-END Part 1-


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

He had the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen.

Clutching the too-small blue bath towel around her, Katie pushed herself into an awkward sitting position against the wall just as the dark-haired man rose and scrambled up the steps toward her. His shoulders seemed to fill the entire staircase.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?” Before she fully realized what he was doing, he had doubled over and wrapped his hands around her bare upper arms – _all the way_ around, she noted with a bit of shock -- and pulled her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”

Katie gulped. The top of her head barely reached the middle of his chest. “I don’t think so.”

“You hit your knee pretty hard. Are you sure?” He made to examine her kneecaps, but she stopped him with a hand on one of those broad, solid shoulders.

“I’m fine. Really. You just startled me.”

The man – Chuck – gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m completely harmless, I swear.” Katie, having quickly cataloged the deep, quiet voice and dimples along with the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs, thoroughly doubted that claim.

“I didn’t expect to step out of the shower and find a strange man in the house with Mira.”

“I know. I didn’t know Lana had company. I would have called first.”

Katie bit her lip. “I can’t believe I screamed like that. That is really not like me at all.”

He tugged at his ear. “We are not getting off on very good footing here.”

Katie gazed up at him. “How about you let me get dressed, and we’ll start over.”

Before Chuck could reply, the overexcited dog wriggled his way in between them and licked every free hand he could find. Chuck smiled again. “How about I take the dog and Mira and get us some breakfast at the café. Pastries and coffee?”

Katie ignored the sudden weakness in her knees.  “Any chance of finding a chocolate croissant?”

“I’d say there’s a better than even chance. How do you like your coffee?”

Even years later, she would not be able to articulate exactly what made her do it. Probably the shoulders. Katie quirked an eyebrow at him. “Very hot, very strong, and very dark.”

The man blushed to the roots of his salt-and-pepper crew cut. “That sounds promising,” he murmured, bent low to make sure the words were for her ears alone. “I will definitely remember that.”

At the foot of the staircase, Lana cleared her throat. “Still here, guys. And I’d like to point out that there is a child present.”

Chuck and Katie shared a quiet laugh. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said to her, his eyes darting from her face to her bare shoulders and back again. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Katie fought not to squirm under that warm gaze. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I hope you do. Come on, Roofus. Let’s go for a walk.”

Katie leaned against the wall and watched the man spring down the stairs, grab the dog’s leash from the hook beside the door in one hand and Mira’s sandals in the other, and bound out the front door, happy dog and chattering girl following along in his wake.

In the sudden silence, Katie could hear her heart pounding in her chest from shock…and something else she was not quite ready to name. “Wow,” she said.

Lana glanced up at her from the bottom of the stairs. “What do you mean, ‘Wow?’”

Katie waved a hand in the direction of the recently departed dog, girl, and man. “He’s something.”

Lana grinned. “No kidding.”

“You and he aren’t…?”

Lana chuckled. “No, we aren’t.”

“And he’s not…?”

“Nope. Chuck is utterly single and has been for about as long as you have.” Katie sucked in a sharp breath and Lana’s face fell. “Sorry, I didn’t mean--”

Katie waved the apology away. “It’s been three years, Lana. I’m okay.”

Lana nodded and gave her a thoughtful expression. “Chuck’s a great guy, and a great friend. I hadn’t thought about it until now, but you’d be good for each other. If you’re interested, that is.”

Katie straightened the towel around her. She hadn’t come to Lakewood looking for romance. In fact, romance was an entanglement she’d been avoiding for a long time. But those shoulders, those deep brown eyes… “I don’t know. I might be. Maybe.”

“I’m really sorry I didn’t warn you that he might come over. I guess I didn’t think about it.”

Katie cocked her head to one side. “He seems like more of a fixture than a guest.”

“I guess that’s true.” Lana made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. “He’s the closest thing Mira’s had to a Dad since Nathan walked out.”

“He’s good with her?”

“She adores him. He’s just a big kid around her.” Lana looked up at her earnestly. “He really is a harmless guy. Although I’m sure his students don’t think that.”

“Tough teacher?”

Lana rolled her eyes. “When I get kids in the physics lab after an English test, I may as well bag my lesson plans for the day. Nobody can concentrate.”

Katie pictured him in her mind’s eye. “Somehow I can’t see him as an English teacher.”

Lana shrugged. “His undgrad degree’s in journalism. He didn’t start teaching English until after he got back from the Middle East.”

Eyes wide, Katie gasped. “He was in the military?”

“No, he was an embedded journalist.” Lana cocked her head to one side. “Get him to tell you sometime why he decided to leave journalism and teach English instead. It’s a hell of a thing.”

“I will.”

Katie shifted the towel around her and Lana gave a start. “Go ahead and get dressed and I’ll fill you in how we met. But be quick. If he said he’ll be back in half an hour, he’ll be back in exactly half an hour.” Lana ducked around the bannister and disappeared into the living room.

Closing the bathroom door behind her with a quiet sigh, Katie stared at herself in the mirror, at reddish-brown hair with a few strands of gray, ice-blue eyes, freckles, the beginnings of fine lines around her eyes and lips. She wished she could call them laugh lines, but these last few years had brought precious little laughter to her life.

And yet…

As awkward as their meeting had been, Chuck’s presence had immediately raised her spirits and even pushed aside the dull mantle of grief she’d been living with, if only for a few moments.

Katie stared at herself in the mirror. “Am I ready for this?” she asked.

There was no reply, so she threw on the clothes she’d brought up from her makeshift bedroom in Lana’s basement. Dressed in trim walking shorts, a crisp blue blouse, and walking sandals, with her damp hair tucked behind her ears, Katie darted into Lana’s room and took stock of herself in the full-length mirror. The petite woman who gazed back at her was fit and strong for almost forty, with a trim waist and shapely legs. She had never thought of herself as beautiful. Cute, maybe, when she was younger, and she knew she was aging well.

 “Maybe I am ready for this,” she whispered.

And the way this man Chuck had looked at her…

Katie smirked at herself in the mirror. “’Harmless,’ my ass,” she muttered, and headed downstairs, her heart still hammering in her chest.

-END of Part 2-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still haven't figured out how to work in the Cheerios.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some time to kill today. Thought I'd add a short section just for fun.

**Part 3**

_Very hot, very strong, and very dark_.

Chuck smiled to himself, watching Mira skip along ahead of him as she darted after  puffs of cottonwood fluff drifting on the late-morning breeze. 

It had been a long time since a woman had flirted with him so openly, and in turn set him back on his heels so thoroughly.

Not that he was unaccustomed to being flirted with, of course. Women of all ages, sizes, shapes, creeds, and hues -- and roughly one in every ten men, he reminded himself with a grin -- had been flirting with him more or less nonstop since he'd turned seventeen, finished restoring his Dad's old convertible, and hit six feet all in the same wonder-filled and revelatory summer. He'd done his fair share of flirting right back at them, and as a result he'd never been without female companionship for long unless it was by his own choice.

All in all, not a bad life…until the day he'd realized "companionship" wasn't the same thing as "love," a realization punctuated by a slamming door, the full stop at the end of a badly written marriage.

The three years that followed the slamming door had been solitary but productive ones. He'd spent a long time questioning his own motivations and priorities, his very capacity to love at all after twenty years of serial "companionship" and a marriage destroyed as much by his gradual indifference as his ex-wife's sudden infidelity. 

_I'm no good for anyone_ , he'd decided at the end of the three years.  _No more women._

And there hadn't been any women, not for three years. In a town the size of Lakewood, where life revolved around Friday night football in the fall and winter and Saturday morning soccer the rest of the year, where everybody knew everybody and there were very few secrets, it didn't take long for word to get around that the newly single English teacher intended to stay that way permanently. They still flirted with him, those women of every shape and size, even the married housewives looking for a little extracurricular thrill, and those one-in-ten-or-so men. But all that flirting took on a different tone altogether, an almost teasing one. All parties knew by tacit agreement that the flirting wasn't serious.

Until this morning.  

_Very hot, very strong, and very dark_.

It was not the kind of thing a Lakewood woman flirting under that tacit agreement would have said to him.

First of all, it was entirely too subtle.

Second, it was absolutely, utterly, unquestionably  _real._  


The heated look Katie had given him... There was no mistaking it for the feigned interest most of the women of Lakewood threw his way as a matter of reflex. No, Katie's frank inspection -- not to mention her throaty voice and pale, freckled skin -- was like nothing he'd experienced in the last three years. And that difference made  _all_  the difference. That difference had set his head spinning in ways that he'd almost forgotten.

"Hey, Mira," Chuck called. The girl skipped back to him. “So when did Aunt Katie get here?”

Mira stopped and looked up with a thoughtful expression on her round face. “She came with Mama to see my races at school.”

Chuck reached for her hand when she turned and hopped up on a low garden wall and tiptoed along its narrow length. “You mean the Junior Kindergarten Field Day?”

“Yep.” That would have been the last day of classes at Lakewood’s two elementary schools. So Katie had been in town at least since Thursday. He hadn't seen Lana in all that time, so it was no wonder she hadn't mentioned the arrival of her gorgeous houseguest. “I won all my races.”

Chuck smiled. “I bet you did.”

Mira jumped down from the wall and let go of his hand. “Mama said I could have won some of the big kindergartener races if they had let me run.”

Mira certainly came by her competitiveness honestly. “Well, next year you’ll be a big kindergartner yourself and you’ll be able to race.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Mira toed at the sidewalk with her sandals. “And then when I'm six I’ll be in first grade.”

“You sure will.”

They walked along in silence for a moment, Roofus trotting along behind them. Mira jumped up on another garden wall, and Chuck reached for her hand again. “Is first grade hard?” she asked as she tottered along. “Because Naomi says it is.”

“It’s not too hard.” Chuck squeezed her hand. The daughter of Lana’s neighbors, Naomi was four years older than Mira, which made her a sage of great wisdom in Mira’s world. “And you have a whole year to get ready for it. I bet it’ll be a snap for you when you're six, Sweat Pea.”

“Easy-peasy?”

“Sure. Easy-peasy.”

"Okay." Mira jumped down off the garden wall with a satisfied grunt, her hand still folded in his. “Are you coming to soccer today?”

Chuck frowned. Most of her games were mid-morning on Saturdays; they might have to hurry to get the pastries and coffee back to Lana’s house in time. "Do you know what time your game is?"

"Nope." Mira shrugged and bent to scratch Roofus’s ears. "Aunt Katie's coming. You could help her take care of Roofus so he doesn't bark at all the balls."

With a wink, Chuck squeezed her little hand. "Well, if you think Aunt Katie needs the help." He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his running shirt and thumbed a quick text.

_What time is Mira's soccer game?_

A moment later, the phone buzzed in the palm of his hand.

_10 00 u shld come wth_

Chuck cringed at the spelling and usage. He glanced at his watch. 8:52am.

_I need to change first. Do you mind if I take Mira to my house for a minute?_

The phone buzzed immediately.

_Kk no sweets no tv_

He chuckled.  _No worries_ , he typed,  _I'll give her something wholesome to look at. Maybe Leaves of Grass._

Half a minute later, the phone buzzed:  _WTH?_

He'd started to inform Mira of the change in plans when another text message appeared.

_whit linn shrt brwn pnts_

Chuck sighed.  _Vowels are your friends, Lana_ , he typed.

_fmly pcnc lnch_

_I'm sorry, I don't understand._

He thought if he listened hard enough, he could probably hear her growl from three blocks away.

The phone buzzed again _._

_There's a family picnic lunch after the game._

_See? Was that so hard?_

_Jerk. You should come to the picnic._

He smirked at the phone.  _But whatever should I wear?_

_You should wear the white linen shirt and the brown pants._

_Why?_

_Because you look good in them and Katie is coming and even though you're an ass I think Katie likes you a lot._

Chuck stared at the phone.

_rly?_

_Yes, really. But if you don't hurry up with the coffee she might change her mind_.

He took a deep breath.  _Kk. Thx,_ he typed, and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

"Change in plans, Mira," he said. "We're going to my house before the cafe so I can change clothes before soccer."

She hugged his leg. "Can I play a video game?"

"Sure," Chuck said. It wasn't  _technically_  TV, right?

-END of Part 3-


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

“Starting over” began with a flourish.

 Lana had just finished relating her unlikely first meeting with Chuck in a basic child development class for M.Ed. candidates — “unlikely” because both were thirtysomething at the time — when Chuck and Mira sailed into the house laden with pastries and drinks. Mira began to relate the morning’s adventures to her mother, while Chuck hummed a lilting tune and fussed over their breakfast.

 If Katie had thought the man handsome in his running clothes, he was downright irresistible now that he’d showered and changed into a cream-colored collarless shirt that showed off his deep tan. The shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, was tucked into equally flattering dark brown trousers. His salt-and-pepper crew cut was clean and freshly combed, and beckoned her touch. With effort, she stayed her hand and settled for a long once-over. “You certainly clean up well,” she drawled.

 He grinned and placed a lidded paper cup on the countertop in front of her. “Your coffee, ma’am. Very hot, very strong, and very dark,” he murmured. “Just the way you like it.”

 Katie blushed furiously. “And how do you like your coffee, Mister…?” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

 “DeLeon,” he answered. “Charles Bearheart DeLeon. But my friends call me ‘Chuck.’” His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “And I like my coffee very sweet, and very, very creamy.”

 Ignoring both the mischievous grin he leveled at her and the flutter in her belly it engendered , Katie reached into the cardboard drink carrier and plucked out the cup labeled with his name. “Fortunately, I have just the thing for you, Mister DeLeon.”

 Lana rolled her eyes so hard Katie thought she might have sprained something.

 “Mira has your chocolate croissant,” Chuck said. The girl handed her a small paper bag. “I hope it meets with your approval.”

 He turned to Lana. “For you, a double espresso and a whole-grain bagel with cream cheese. And for the superstar soccer player, a Sunshine Smoothie and a Power Bar.”

 “No sweets,” Lana growled.

 “The smoothie is mashed banana, orange juice and yogurt. The Power Bar is peanut butter and Rice Krispies,” Chuck assured her. He placed a large pastry box on the countertop. “And finally…” He paused and nodded to Mira.

 “A dozen pretty flowers,” she recited on cue, and Chuck lifted the box’s lid to reveal twelve huge, flower-shaped sugar cookies, all decorated with pink and purple frosting. “For three pretty ladies.”

 “Oh, brother,” Lana muttered.

 Katie stared at him. “You are something else.”

 He settled Mira on a stool beside her mother and slid into the chair next to Katie. “You have no idea,” he said. “But I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”

 “So we really are starting over?”

 “It was your suggestion, Mrs…?”

 “Ms,” she corrected.. “Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway,” she said, repeating the rhythm of his playful patter. “But my friends call me ‘Katie.’”

 “I am thrilled to meet you, Katie,” he said softly. “How’s the coffee?”

 She took a long drink and hummed her absolute bliss when the hot and bitter concoction hit her tastebuds. “Exquisite,” she purred. “Thank you.”

 Chuck’s eyes went black. “I aim to please.”

 Lana jumped up from her chair. “That’s it. Mira, grab your snack and go upstairs. I’ll help you get ready for soccer.”

 The girl started to protest, but Lana shooed her out of the kitchen. As she rounded the corner, Lana turned back with a thunderous glare. “We leave for soccer in fifteen minutes. If you could have this,” she waved a hand at both of them, “toned down to something more G-rated by then, I’d appreciate it.”

 “Sorry,” they said in unison.

 Lana paused and gave them a crooked smile that softened the impact of the glare. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen either of you this way. It looks good on you both,” she said. “You’ve got fifteen minutes. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” With a wink, she disappeared around the corner.

 Feeling his warm, brown eyes on her, Katie unwrapped her croissant, which was golden and flaky, and heavy with chocolate chips. “You’re coming to Mira’s soccer game?”

 “And to the family picnic. I thought we could take the cookies as our contribution.”

 “’Our’ contribution?” Her eyebrows rose.

 He nodded happily. “Our contribution. As in, Mira’s family’s contribution.”

 She smiled in acceptance. “Lana’s got pasta salad and fruit salad packed in the cooler and ready to go, too.”

 He continued to stare at her with an expression that she’d begun to think of as devilish. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

 She pulled the croissant apart and watched the flakes settle back onto the paper bag. “I hadn’t really thought about it. Mira will probably need a nap afterwards, so…” She gave a small shrug.

 “Spend the day with me?” When she hesitated, he reached out and touched her wrist. “If I’m being too forward—”

 “No, not at all.” Katie took a long drink of her coffee. “I just wondered: Why only the day?”

 He choked on a mouthful of croissant. “I guess I’ll stop worrying about being too forward.”

 “You’ll find that I can give as good as I get.”

 He wiped his chin with a napkin to cover his obvious shock. “Clearly.”

 She thumped her shoulder against his. “I would like to spend the day with you. I’d like to get to know you better.”

 He grinned. “I’m pretty much an open book.”

 “Are you?” She met his eyes. At various points in their short conversation, their mutual friend had intimated that there was far more to this man than the easygoing charm he projected. “Lana said I should ask you why you left journalism and decided to teach English instead.”

 He looked away quickly, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. “If I promise to answer that question honestly, can I defer it until we know each other better?”

 “Of course.” Concerned by the seriousness of his response even though it confirmed her suspicion about his cheerful façade, she touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

 He took a slow sip of his very sweet, very creamy coffee. “I do want to tell you. It’s…important that you know.” She nodded, less surprised by his implication of her significance than by her instant acceptance of it. “So I promise to tell you, if you ask me again later.”

 “All right.” She squeezed his shoulder, enjoying the feel of the solid muscle beneath her hand. In the charged moment, she experienced a sudden urge to reciprocate his offer to make himself vulnerable to her. Eyes fixed on his profile, she took a deep breath. “And at the same time, I promise to tell you why it’s ‘Ms’ and not ‘Mrs.’”

 He turned slowly to meet her gaze. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

 She withdrew her hand, and the tension between them dissipated. “Shall we start with something simpler?”

 “Sure. Let me think.” He rubbed his chin with his fingertips. “Where are you from, Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway?”

 “Southern Indiana. I was born in 1976 to a math teacher and a Vietnam vet who lived in the town of Bean Blossom, population about two thousand — at the time.”

 “Army brat?”

 She shook her head and sipped her coffee. “Not really. They were already married when my father was drafted in 1969. He was honorably discharged in 1973 back to the Janeway family farm. My mother still teaches math at Bean Blossom Junior High School.”

 “‘Bean Blossom,’” he snickered.

 She thumped her shoulder against his again. “’Bearheart.’”

 “Touché.”

 “’Charles Bearheart DeLeon.’ There’s a story behind that, isn’t there?”

 “There is.” He popped the last bite of croissant into his mouth. “My father was from Albuquerque, the son of Mexican immigrants. His name was Roberto DeLeon. My mother was born 1,500 miles away on the Lac Du Flambeau Reservation in northern Wisconsin. Her name was Charlotte Bearheart.”

 She stared at him. “Where in the world did they meet?”

 The easy grin was back. “A little more than halfway in between, at a baseball game in Chicago.”

 “How?”

 “He was a warmup catcher for the St. Louis Cardinals.” He sipped his coffee, and she couldn’t help but suspect he was relishing her suspense. “She worked for the Cubs…as a ball girl in the visitors’ bullpen.”

 Katie chuckled. “Okay, but where did ‘Charles’ come from?”

 “My parents let my half-sister Sofia, who was ten when I was born, pick a name. So she chose from her favorite book.”

 Katie waited…and waited. He was definitely enjoying himself. “Which was?” she prompted.

“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. That makes me half Mexican, half Lake Superior Chippewa, and named for a British schoolboy.”

 Katie gasped…and then howled in laughter with him.    

-END of Part 4-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know how to work in the Cheerios. But not quite yet. *smirk*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I had a giant work project, and then went on vacation for a few days. I was too busy spoiling the nieces and nephews to write!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this detour to Paris!

Part 5

Saturday mornings, Thomas Paris had decided long ago, were the best part of the week.

As a toddler he'd relished the time alone in his family's sterile home, sitting in his pajamas in front of an old Zenith television set with a bowl of Lucky Charms perched precariously in his lap. Five-year-old Tommy Paris knew there was nothing better than having the set to himself for cartoons before his sisters and mother woke up...and before his father, a chronic workaholic with a mean streak, ordered the entire family into a weekly housecleaning routine that would put any Army drill sergeant to shame.

As he'd gotten older, the child Tom Paris had discovered the only things better than Saturday morning cartoons were Saturday morning sports. Pop Warner Football. Little League Baseball. Peewee Soccer. Hell, even Saturday Morning Swim Club was fun, especially as child Tom Paris had morphed into adolescent Thomas Paris and discovered _girls_. Girls in _swimsuits_.

Thomas relished the thrill of competition, whatever it might be, the sheer joy of putting his young, fit body through its paces and the happy camaraderie of working together with a team. The excuse to get away from Old Man Paris and his disapproving stare didn't hurt any, either.

In high school, he'd begun to formulate plans to get away from the city where Owen and Lucinda Paris had settled, get a degree in PhysEd, and find some nice, little suburb where he could establish the kind of youth sports program that had saved him from his father's wrath every Saturday morning. With its pleasant, tree-lined streets, white sandy beaches, and above average household income, the Town of Lakewood, nestled in a cove of Great Lakes shoreline, had more than fit the bill. Thomas had arrived right out of college with a roguish smile and a gift of gab that landed him in the Lakewood Community Fitness Center's personal trainer pool and saw him rise to Community Recreation Department Director in less than ten years. Along the way he'd trained virtually every bored housewife and midlife crisis in town, added Silver Sneaker fitness and youth art and music classes to the department's course schedule, and coached every youth sport the Rec Department offered. As Rec Director, he'd unfortunately had to cut back his hands-on involvement in favor of planning and paper pushing...until he'd med Lana Torres.

She'd turned up one frosty Saturday morning at the indoor pool for Mommy and Me swim classes, feisty toddler in tow. Thomas's Rec office overlooked the pool deck, and he'd instantly been smitten with the young mother and her firecracker of a daughter. Over the course of the fall and winter sessions, he'd watched them from afar, searching for any sign of the toddler's father. But Lana and Mira Torres, whose names he had coaxed out of the lifeguard, always arrived alone.

On the day of course graduation — a vital rite of passage for every Rec Department youth program, as far as Thomas was concerned — he'd ambled down from his office to present the certificates in person, much to the shock of the teenage instructors. He'd intended to introduce himself to Ms Torres and her charming daughter, remind Ms Torres that the spring course offerings included small-group swim lessons for three-year-olds, and invite the lovely Ms Torres out for bagels and coffee (with juice for the little one, of course).

But on that day of days, Lana Torres had not arrived alone.

No, Lana and her daughter had strolled into the building and lowered themselves into the water to demonstrate their aquatic prowess under the watchful eye of a crew-cut Adonis. And not just any crew-cut Adonis, either. Thomas recognized the broad, brown man as the Lakewood High School English teacher, the one the students hoped they _didn't_ get. He knew for a fact that Chuck DeLeon wasn't Mira's father, but both mother and daughter certainly treated him as affectionately as if he were.

 _What is he to you?_ Thomas had wondered, watching Chuck watch the lovely ladies' watery proceedings with an almost paternalistic twinkle in his eye.

Thomas, irritated with the man's presence and emboldened by a streak of jealousy he didn't care to examine, had plunked himself down next to the man and struck up a seemingly random conversation.

"Aren't you Mr. DeLeon, the English teacher?" he'd asked.

The man had frowned, his salt-and-pepper brows drawn together. "That's right."

Thomas held out his hand. "Thomas Paris. Head of the Lakewood Rec Department. I've heard some of my high school lifeguards and coaches talk about you. Legendary exams, Mr. DeLeon. _Legendary_."

DeLeon shook his hand with a look of equal parts embarrassment and pride. "I do my best. And it's Chuck."

Thomas nodded toward the pool. "Which one's yours?"

"What?" DeLeon looked started for a moment, and then chuckled. "Oh, she's not _mine_. I mean, her mother... She's a friend, but that's all. Mira Torres. The girl in the pink and white polka dots."

Thomas pretended to peer at the crowd of Mommies and Mes gathered in the pool. "Oh, the one screaming that the water's too cold?"

DeLeon cleared his throat. "Yes, that one. Her mother and I met in grad school. They asked me to come watch her graduation today."

Thomas had nodded thoughtfully. "Nice of you to come. I haven't seen Mira's Dad here at all."

DeLeon's eyes had narrowed. "You've been watching them?" he growled.

Startled by the older man's quiet but unmistakable accusation, Thomas pointed to the window of his office, high above the pool. "The Rec office looks right out on the deck. I'm usually here on Saturday mornings anyway, so..." He shrugged. "I like to watch all the classes and sports. The kids' enthusiasm... It's what made me want to work in this field in the first place."

Seemingly satisfied, DeLeon had turned back to the class in progress. "The kids are why I teach, too."

Thomas drummed his fingers on his thighs. "So... Mira's Dad?"

If DeLeon's disapproving stare had been a left hook, Thomas would have been unconscious before he'd hit the mat.

They had sat in tense silence for the remainder of the class, until Thomas passed out the graduation certificates to each shivering pair and congratulated them all on their progress. When DeLeon had wrapped Mira in a soft towel and snuggled her close to his broad chest while Lana looked on affectionately, Thomas had felt a pang of longing that made him want to get to know the girl and her mother even more.

If only DeLeon hadn't been in the way.

 _She's a friend, but that's all_ , DeLeon had said.

Two years later, Thomas had gotten to know them all, Lana, Mira, and Chuck, better. Thomas was certain that DeLeon's statement of friendship had been the honest truth, but it didn't change the fact that Chuck DeLeon was a ubiquitous presence in Lana and Mira's lives, and no matter how hard he tried, Thomas just couldn't get past him. When Lana had enrolled the girl in small-group swim lessons, DeLeon had come to every class. When Lana had registered Mira for tumbling, DeLeon had hovered in the corner of the gym, towering over the leotard-clad gymnasts. He'd even turned up for fingerpainting class, his six-foot frame folded into a tiny classroom chair, his black eyes never leaving Thomas's wide-eyed, innocent blue gaze.

Bumblebee Soccer — so-called because four-year-olds tend to "swarm" to the ball, a bit of linguistic humor that Thomas was inordinately proud of — was no exception. Every Saturday morning saw the little family of two, mother and daughter, arriving at the Intermediate School soccer field with their hulking protector in tow, his watchful gaze sweeping the area for interlopers. Even when the primary interloper was the head of the Rec Department, and just _coincidentally_ , Mira's own soccer coach.

And here they were now.

Thomas watched mother and daughter, turn the corner into the field hand-in-hand. As usual, Lana had Roofus's leash wrapped around her wrist, and the dog was trotting along happily beside her. Also as usual, Chuck DeLeon was strolling along behind Mira...but today, the warning frown was gone, replaced by an expression Thomas had never seen on the man's face before. He was at a loss to describe it, it was so uncharacteristic. _Bewildered_ seemed all wrong, as did _shocked_ , even though there were traces of both there. The big man was talking to someone, too. Did they have a fourth person with them today? Maybe someone who could run a bit of interference, distract the big man, and maybe, just maybe, give Thomas an opening to finally ask Lana out on an actual, honest-to-God, _date_?

As they entered the field, Thomas caught a glimpse of the person following in Lana's wake: A very short and _very_ sexy redhead, who was staring up at Chuck DeLeon with a saucy grin that made Thomas question his affection for Lana, if only briefly.

Was this the person who had captured DeLeon's attention?

DeLeon leaned down to whisper something in the woman's ear, and the woman laughed. DeLeon watched her, his dark eyes fastened on her milky white throat, and the word to describe his expression popped unbidden into Thomas's head: _enraptured_.

Thomas whistled to himself.

Saturday mornings were the best part of any given week.

But this particular Saturday morning had just gotten very interesting...and quite possibly a whole lot better.

-END of Part 5-


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